Chapter 94 — The Church’s Envoy
She arrived alone, without escort or fanfare, on foot through Greyhaven’s eastern gate rather than the formal procession Arlen had half expected given the weight everyone seemed to place on her arrival.
He learned of it from Halvard, who found him at the training yard shortly after midday. "She’s here. Walked in like she owned the road, according to the gate guards. No carriage, no retinue, just her and a staff."
"That’s not what I pictured."
"Neither did I."
They made their way to the guild hall together, and Arlen found the woman already deep in quiet conversation with Garrick and Ilyana near the entrance, the guild hall’s usual noise noticeably subdued around her presence without any obvious reason for the hush.
She was tall, her posture carrying a stillness that spoke of long discipline rather than any deliberate performance — robes of pale gold and cream, simple in cut but unmistakably marked as sacred by the soft sunburst medallion resting at her collar, dark hair pulled back with practical efficiency rather than any ornamental care. She looked, at first glance, almost unremarkable, until she turned and Arlen caught the weight of her full attention settling on the room.
"Sister Maren Ashwood, of the Radiant Dawn," Garrick said, by way of introduction, once Arlen and Halvard had drawn close enough. "Dispatched by her order specifically for this crisis. Arlen, Halvard — two of the volunteers I mentioned."
"The one with history at the original site," Maren said, studying Arlen with quiet, focused attention. "I read your account on the journey here. Thorough. Useful."
"Thank you," Arlen said.
"You survived contact with something that shouldn’t have permitted survival," Maren continued. "That was before any formal Aura training, if your report’s timeline is accurate. A fortunate constitution, then, or something Awakening early enough to matter without your full awareness of it yet."
"Something like that," Arlen said, the familiar, comfortable deflection settling into place without any real effort. "I started training properly with Garrett not long after. Figured I’d rather understand what I was working with than keep relying on luck."
Maren nodded, apparently satisfied, and turned back to Garrick and Ilyana without further comment, and Arlen found himself relieved rather than unsettled — whatever her reputation, she’d clearly drawn the same conclusion everyone else eventually did, nothing more.
"She’s intense," Halvard murmured, once they’d stepped back to give the three commanders proper space.
"That’s one word for it."
The formal briefing convened an hour later, the guild hall’s largest meeting space crowded now with volunteers from Greyhaven, the five capital adventurers, and Maren herself, standing slightly apart from the others near the map spread across the central table.
"I want to be clear about what I actually do, before we discuss strategy," Maren said, once Garrick had ceded the floor to her. "I am not a healer, though I can perform basic restorative work if needed. I am not primarily a combatant, though I can defend myself adequately if pressed. My function is purification — addressing corruption, residue, and the kind of lingering influence that ordinary steel and spellcraft cannot touch. The Radiant Dawn trains few of us for this work specifically; it demands patience most orders don’t cultivate."
"What does that actually involve?" Doran asked. "Practically, I mean."
"Direct contact with the affected site, sustained concentration, and considerable personal risk." Maren’s expression didn’t shift as she said it. "The process draws on divine focus rather than raw power. It’s slow. It leaves me vulnerable throughout, which is precisely why your role matters as much as mine. I cannot purify a site while also defending it from whatever the corruption produces to interfere with the process."
"That’s what happened at Millbrook," Arlen said quietly. "The creature didn’t finish us off because it wasn’t hunting. It was defending something."
Maren’s gaze shifted to him, something approving in the brief flicker of her expression. "That’s a more astute observation than most people manage on first hearing this explained. Yes. I believe the original creature existed, at least in part, as a guardian mechanism — something the old containment left behind specifically to interfere with anyone attempting exactly what I intend to do now."
"Which means whatever’s out there now," Ilyana said, "is doing the same job. Guarding the site while we’re trying to reach it."
"Precisely." Maren studied the map a long moment. "This is why I requested combat support rather than attempting this alone, whatever confidence my order’s higher voices might have in my own capability. I’ve done this work before. I understand its limits."
"Before we push toward the newer sites beyond the boundary," Garrick said, "I want to propose something. Millbrook’s original site is closer, better documented, and Corrin’s detachment has monitored it continuously for over a year. If Sister Ashwood is willing, I’d like her to attempt a full purification there first."
"A trial run," Ilyana said, understanding immediately.
"Exactly that. We’ll learn what the process actually demands, in a location we already understand thoroughly, before committing to something considerably less familiar."
Maren considered the proposal. "Sound thinking. A controlled attempt, with a full combat escort and known terrain, will teach us considerably more than walking blind into an unknown site further out. I’m willing."
"Then that’s our first objective," Garrick said. "Millbrook, purified properly and completely, before we move on to whatever waits beyond the boundary."
Arlen felt something settle in his chest at that — a quiet, fitting symmetry. The place where all of this had begun for him, finally being properly closed, before he faced whatever came next.
He approached Maren once the formal briefing concluded, curiosity outweighing his earlier reserve.
"You said this is closer to treating a spreading infection," he said. "If Millbrook’s the original wound, does purifying it properly actually help with the sites further out? Or are they separate now?"
"An excellent question, and one I don’t have a certain answer to," Maren admitted. "My working theory is that the original site remains the source — treat it fully, and the newer manifestations may weaken or stop spreading further, even if they require separate attention themselves. It’s also possible they’ve become self-sustaining, in which case Millbrook’s treatment matters, but doesn’t resolve the rest on its own. We’ll learn more once we’ve actually attempted it."
"Either way, worth doing properly," Arlen said.
"Either way," Maren agreed. "We depart for Millbrook in three days. I’d encourage you to use the time well — whatever preparation matters most to you personally, given your history with that particular ground."
She turned and walked away, and Arlen stood there a long moment, the old, familiar weight of Millbrook settling over him.
He found Reya later that evening at the tavern, and mentioned, once she asked, that he’d be departing with the expedition in three days.
"Wish I could go," Reya admitted, no bitterness in it, just honest frustration. "Rank D and above only. I’m not there yet."
"You will be," Arlen said. "Sooner than you think, probably."
"Maybe. Doesn’t make watching you head off without me any easier." She managed a small, genuine smile despite it. "Come back in one piece. That’s an order, not a request."
"I’ll do my best."
He wrote about the day that evening.
Sister Maren Ashwood, of the Radiant Dawn. Purification specialist. Formidable in exactly the way Ilyana described, though it turns out that means focused, disciplined, and entirely honest about the danger ahead.
We’re going back to Millbrook first. A trial run, before pushing further. I don’t know exactly how I feel about that — returning to the place that nearly killed me, this time with proper support and a real chance to finally close it out completely rather than simply surviving it.
Reya can’t come. Not confirmed D rank yet. I could see how much that frustrated her, even through the good humor she covered it with.
Three days to prepare. I intend to use them well.
He closed the journal, the guild hall’s evening settling around him, and found himself, despite the day’s tension, oddly steadied by the plan ahead.